Eleven: The Welcome You Deserve.

Hiccup woke the next morning, utterly disorientated. He was warm and comfortable and only slightly hungry. He rolled over and mumbled "Another five minutes, Aunt Marte."

And then his eyes snapped open and he sat up. He was in the loft bedroom in Stoick's house on Berk. Aunt Marte was three years dead-three years in which he had been enslaved and whipped and branded and raped. And now he was on Berk under the protection of the Chief. He blinked again and glanced around. He could hear Stoick moving around downstairs and he cautiously slid out of bed, neatly pulling the blankets and furs straight and pulling his boots on. Then, warily, he quietly climbed down the stairs and reached the main room of the house. The Chief looked up.

"Ah-there you are, Hiccup," he said cheerfully. "Sleep well?" He nodded shyly.

"Very well, thanks," he murmured. The Chief got up.

"Breakfast?" he offered and Hiccup gave a grin. His stomach growled.

"Yes, please!" he admitted and walked out after the Chief heading for the Great Hall. The man was very careful to stick close to the boy, pointing things out to him and ensuring the boy had a hefty plate of meat and eggs for breakfast. Hiccup sat down by him and gave a smile. "Wow. I won't be able to move after this!" he admitted. Stoick glanced down on him.

"No offence, boy, but you're nothing but skin and bone and you need feeding up, big time!" he noted, taking a huge bite of his chicken leg. Hiccup cautiously bit into his own chicken leg and closed his eyes in happiness at the taste of warm, well-cooked food. He tucked into his food with good heart. But as he was finishing, he saw the other teens eating at the far end of the Hall and he stared over at them wistfully. Snotlout had done his best to sabotage any chance of friendship with them but as Hiccup was stuck on Berk at least until Spring, he knew he had to try to connect with them. So he saw them looking and offered a hopeful smile-but he saw Snotlout lean towards Tuff-the male twin-and then there was the sounds of laughing. Hiccup's face fell. The Chief looked up and caught his expression.

"Son-it will take time," he said, not knowing how Snotlout had done his best to sabotage things. Hiccup forced a lopsided smile onto his face.

"If you say so, sir," he said heavily. "May I be excused? I ought to get to the forge. Or Gobber really will give my job away!" Stoick clapped him on the shoulder.

"Off you go, Hiccup!" he said cheerfully. "I'll see you later." Hiccup flashed a more genuine smile and rose, then walked to the door. The teens pointedly ignored him and he sighed then headed for the forge. Gobber was sarcastic at his late arrival but the twinkle in his blue eyes was heartening and Hiccup managed a suitably sarcastic come back, earning a chuckle from his boss.

"And I see Stoick got yer some snappy threads," the blacksmith noted. Hiccup paused, stuck his arms out and gave a twirl.

"Yeah, the height of Viking fashion!" he shot back. Gobber grinned.

"As long as yer remember yer here to work, not model!" he noted. Hiccup winked.

"I'm sure I can find time in my busy social schedule for a little work!" he teased and then his face fell. He could see Snotlout and the twins walking across the plaza and he sighed. Gobber caught his expression and gently patted his shoulder.

"Give it time, Hiccup," he reassured the boy. He glanced around the forge. "We're none too busy. After lunch, yer can take some time off and see if yer can catch up with them." Hiccup sighed heavily.

"Gobber, Snotlout made sure they all knew where I was found and what happened to me," he said softly. "They look at me like something they've stepped in." Gobber narrowed his eyes: he knew the teens from weapons training.

"All of them?" he asked softly. Hiccup considered and frowned.

"No," he realised. Then the blacksmith smiled.

"Now yer have a plan!" he suggested.

Hiccup found the big husky blond boy down by the bottom of the plaza, reading a book. He peered at the runes of the front cover: 'DRAGON MANUAL'. Taking his courage in both hands, he approached the big boy cautiously. He mentally kicked himself: what was the boy going to do? Shout at him? Beat him? He could only try.

"Erm…hello?" he hazarded as he stopped a yard away from the boy. He looked up, his eyes surprised. Hiccup swallowed. "Erm…I'm sorry about the other day."

"What?" The tone wasn't hostile but it wasn't friendly either. Hiccup took a deep breath.

"About-about snapping at you about my name. I mean Hiccup. It's not a great name at all but it kinda describes me-I know that. I-I just kinda got tired of absolutely everyone telling me it means the runt of the litter. I mean-look at me! How could I not be described a runt? It came…after a pretty tough day with Snotlout." He stopped and winced. Now it would sound like he was bad-mouthing the boy's friend. The book lowered and a pair of round blue eyes inspected the skinny boy.

"I can appreciate that," the husky boy said, his voice still neutral. Hiccup sighed.

"Look, I know we never got properly introduced," he persisted in his most optimistic tone. "I'm Hiccup. I was brought here by Stoick because he felt sorry for me and he rescued me from…a really bad situation." The book was laid down now and the larger boy's round face stared carefully at Hiccup's bruised one, seeing the anxiety in his green eyes.

"Were you really in the whorehouse? A slave?" he asked. Hiccup rolled his eyes and nodded, his head dropping.

"Yeah," he admitted slowly. "But not of choice."

"So you really…?"

"Yeah, I deliberately got myself there, beaten and in chains and terrified," he shot back sarcastically. The larger boy stared at him, his face hurt. "Look-SORRY! There isn't much I can say. I wasn't born a slave or anything like that. I was free, living with my Aunt and Uncle until they died, shortly before we were raided by pirates. Half the village was laid waste and though we fought them to a truce, they demanded slaves to ensure they went away. And though I was free-born and the blacksmith's apprentice-the only blacksmith they had-I was handed immediately over as a waste of space and a drain on the village. I never asked for it. I was lost and scared. My only family had just died and my own tribe had just given me into slavery!"

The big boy stared at him.

"Oh," was all he could manage. Hiccup closed his eyes.

"On the slaver ship, I was whipped and locked up and finally branded. Yeah, that was a great day. And then…I was sold. I was given to a man on Berserk who was pretty mean. I still thought of myself as free and kept trying to escape but every time I was caught and whipped or starved or locked up. And finally, I just had to stop-because no matter how brave you are, you can't carry on with no food and no water and no skin left on your back!" His voice had grown bitter and he stopped, breathing hard. The big boy stared at him.

"Go on," he encouraged. Hiccup gave a grim smile.

"After a year, I was sold. And in a way, it was a relief but in others, it was worse, because I was going into the unknown. I knew what my master on Berserk wanted but the new master, on Meathead island was even harder and unpredictable. He beat me daily but realised I would never be strong-so he sold me to a Trader Captain. And he…he just got his rocks off on spilling my blood. I had to do every single task on the ship and he just set me tasks no man could complete, let alone a skinny boy. And once I failed, he got what he wanted and had his fun beating me. It was inevitable: I ran once we went into port."

His hands were trembling now and he was wondering why he was telling this to the stranger who hadn't even given him a name. But he needed the other boy to understand his situation-it hadn't been his choice, it was just his only path because he had been condemned for no crime and then had to live with the consequences.

"I managed to hide until he sailed but I found locating work really hard. I never shirked any task and always gave my best. I can read and write and speak a handful of languages. I can blacksmith and work leather. I was there for nine months but as it got colder, any casual work dried up. I couldn't work in the docks or the boats because one look told them I wouldn't cut the mustard. So, as I was on the brink of starvation and freezing to death, I went to the whorehouse, seeing if they would take me on as a menial worker. But I was trapped and they wouldn't let me go. He-the steward-demanded I become part of the staff or he would hand me to the guards as a slave. And then…he…he…"

He turned away, his head bowed and throat bobbing with the effort of swallowing the sobs that almost choked him. He shook his head. How could this boy understand his horror, his helplessness, his shame?

"He forced me. But when he made me go in with a client, I ran away-and met your chief. But I was recaptured and the steward whipped and beat me-until your chief came. But I had already been handed to a man who wouldn't let me go and wouldn't say no." He squeezed his eyes tighter shut. "So walk away, friend. I'm sure your parents wouldn't want you to associate with the little slave from the port, that soiled and shamed little…"

A hand closed gently on his shoulder. He looked up, rigid with shock and sudden fear.

"My name is Fishlegs," the large boy said. His eyes were kind. "I'm sorry. I hadn't realised how bad your life had been." Hiccup hitched his ashen face up into a vague smile and suppressed the response he wanted to shoot back: And they laughed at my name? Instead, he went with a more honest answer.

"We're Vikings. Life is meant to be hard," he sighed.

"Not that hard," a female voice said. His head snapped round and saw the beautiful blonde girl inspecting him, her axe still in her hand but her glorious blue eyes softer. "I'm Astrid Hofferson. I guess you didn't deserve the welcome we gave you."

No, I didn't.

But he shrugged instead. "I-I can understand why you wouldn't wanna speak to me," he admitted softly. Fishlegs looked at him.

"But why did you attack Snotlout?" he asked. "Not that…um…that isn't quite cool…" Hiccup sighed.

"Because…because he insulted Chief Stoick," he said in a quiet voice.

"What?" Astrid's tone was sharp. Hiccup sighed.

"And I bet my Uncle only brought you back so that he could bend you over and ride your scrawny little ass!" he quoted softly. Their eyes were incredulous. "He is Stoick's Heir: he should be defending the Chief, not slandering him. The Chief hasn't touched me in that way. He's the only person for years who has touched me with anything other than a blow from a hand or a whip. He actually…actually was kind and he doesn't deserve people saying untruthful things about him when he deserves honour for his generosity in rescuing a wretched and friendless boy from a horrible situation." He stared at the ground.

"Not friendless," Fishlegs told him calmly. Hiccup stiffened.

"Okay, so I guess Gobber…" he began but the bigger boy gave a smile.

"Well, I think that you deserve a chance…so I am happy to give you that," Fishlegs said quietly. "We didn't offer you the welcome you deserved."

"Especially since it's obvious the Chief wanted you to be made welcome," Astrid added firmly. Hiccup raised his wary green eyes and looked at them in shock.

"You-you…" he stuttered. Fishlegs smiled. "Th-thank you…" Astrid inspected him professionally.

"Hmm-you're not very muscular, are you?" she noted. He felt the transient urge to reply 'neither are you' but bit back at the sarcasm. It was a reasonable observation, though not particularly kind or polite.

"Um, not really," he admitted.

"So what weapon do you use?" she asked him briskly, twirling the axe in her hand.

"W-weapon?" he asked faintly.

"Yes," she said impatiently. "Which weapons have you been trained to use?"

"I can build and mend axes, swords, hammers, pikes, halberds, spears and bows," he said warily.

"And use?"

"Um…none of them," he said ashamedly. Astrid's eyes widened in shock and mild disappointment.

"NONE?" she snapped. He swallowed and inspected the ground furiously.

"Um…I was raised on a Peaceable Island…Nott, to be precise…and they really didn't go big on weapons…and I was in the forge all the time until I was twelve…and then I was enslaved…and they kinda don't do weapons training for slaves…well, in Rome they sorta did if you were going into the Arena…but they didn't for me because why would you bother…I mean, look at me? If you trained me for the Arena…I'd last two minutes and a minute of a half would be the other guy taking the applause of the crowd and most of the rest would be him laughing at me so…yeah…can't use any of them…sorry…"

Astrid and Fishlegs saw his cheeks flaming brilliant scarlet with shame at the admission and could hear the utter embarrassment in his rambling voice. And he was trembling as he hunched his shoulders and turned away.

"Sorry…" he repeated and started to walk away.

"WAIT!" Fishlegs called and grabbed his shoulder. He flinched and hunched up, his head bowing as if expecting a blow and the boy started in shock. "Hiccup? Where're you going?" The smaller boy stared at the floor and sighed.

"You look d-disappointed so I g-guess y-you don't w-want me here any m-more…" he stammered, still inspecting the ground. His voice was quiet, submissive and they stared at the trembling shape. Astrid walked to stand in his way and bent her knees so she could inspect his face. He looked utterly defeated. Instinctively, she reached out and her hand grasped his shoulder. His froze.

"Hiccup-it's not your fault you were never taught," she told him seriously. "But you are here now so we will help you learn." She paused and stared into the wary eyes. "You really haven't been treated well, have you?" He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers.

"Um, no…sorry…" he apologised wearily. Astrid nodded.

"Come with us," she said, gesturing to Fishlegs, who willingly closed the Dragon Manual and followed the girl up as she led them to a flat open area at the edge of the village and motioned the twitchy Hiccup to face her. She eyed him up and down. "Hmm-not sure you'd be much good with an axe…" she sighed, twirling her beautiful axe thoughtfully in her hands. She looked at Fishlegs, who was holding a war-hammer. "Or a hammer," she added.

"Pike or spear?" he suggested.

"He's too short," she appraised sharply. "He'd find it too unwieldy."

"Sword," Fishlegs decided. She nodded, then cast around and found a suitable branch, stripping it to sword shape and size with her axe. She made herself a practice sword as well, then laid the axe aside.

"Okay, Hiccup," she said smartly. "You hold the sword like…this…" And her warm hand closed his fingers around the wood, adjusting the grip until it was correct. He almost dared not breathe and then he gave a small smile. She frowned. "Hiccup?"

"Um…you're really beautiful…" he managed. Her face folded into a frown and Fishlegs winced. He stared at her and recoiled.

"How dare you?" she hissed through gritted teeth. Hiccup backed away, dropping his 'sword' and curled up, cringing away from a blow.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" he whimpered, unsure what he had done wrong but realising now he was definitely going to get a beating. "I-I…"

But the blow never came for Astrid was staring at him in utter shock. Vikings on Berk were feisty, rude and blunt, enduring all manner of hardship and injury with happy equanimity. But the outsider had obviously taken more cruel treatment than anyone on Berk had been forced to survive and he was afraid. She forced her temper back and cast Fishlegs a glance.

"Um…you don't go round hitting on Astrid!" the larger boy hissed at Hiccup. "Well, not unless you expect her to hit you…"

"'m sorry, I didn't know," Hiccup whimpered, curling up tighter. Fishlegs sighed.

"She won't hit you," he told the smaller boy with a sigh.

"You just said she would!" Hiccup protested.

"Not this time," Astrid said sharply. "Because you didn't know." Hiccup peered under his hair warily.

"Know-know what?" he asked shakily.

"I am a warrior," she said proudly. He nodded wildly.

"And I c-can't tell you that you are b-beautiful?" he guessed. She scowled. "S-sorry. B-but your name means 'D-divine B-beauty' and-and you are but I don't wanna be hurt so I-I'm really sorry because n-normally beautiful women don't threaten to k-kill you for complimenting them. I-I'll remember…" She nodded.

"Now pick up your sword!" she commanded him. He sighed, then grabbed it, consciously changed it over to his right hand as she had done and adjusted his hand so it was how she had placed it and faced her. He looked really pale.

"Ready," he sighed.

oOo

The lesson had been dispiriting because it had become very obvious he had a huge way to go. He was clumsy and uncoordinated and had been easily disarmed by Astrid. He had felt his inners curling with shame at his useless performance but his friends had been very patient, accepting that he had never had any training at arms. Astrid had made an appointment to meet up the next day and continue his training and he had felt his heart leap just a little at the chance to spend some time with the girl.

But his arms were aching terribly. He had never felt so tired, even after hauling water and chopping logs for the Jorgensons…his eyes had slid warily down the slope to the house where he had felt such hostility and fear-but he steeled himself to look away. Astrid had exercised his arms, his legs and his core, trying to get his balance better and movements more coordinated. He sighed. At least he may have done something that could make the Chief proud. He desperately wanted not to be so hopeless in the man's eyes, the desire to make his protector proud of him burning deep in his chest. He owed Stoick everything and he had to start repaying the man.

Hands grabbed him and hauled him into the narrow space between two houses and he gave a strangled cry before he was slammed against the wall of the house, a meaty hand over his face. His eyes widened in fear as the arctic blue gaze of Snotlout inspected his terrified face. Hiccup tried to struggle but he was pinned. The larger boy leaned close to him and his proximity was terrifying.

"Stay away from my Princess, slave!" Snotlout hissed. Hiccup tried to shake his head. "Astrid. She's mine!" Hiccup frowned. The impression he had that was she belonged to no one and was exasperated by being chased…and then it clicked. She was exasperated at being chased by Snotlout. He struggled more wildly. The boy hammered a fist into his gut and Hiccup doubled up in agony.

"Let…me…go…" he shouted against the hand but only the smallest of sounds escaped.

"You shamed my father and mother," Snotlout threatened him, his voice and face hateful. Hiccup stared through shimmering eyes, still grimacing in pain. They had shamed themselves by mistreating the boy they were asked to make welcome and care for-but there was little to be gained in making the point. They had decided that it was Hiccup's fault and nothing would change their mind. And Hiccup was terrified that no one knew where he was. He tried to shake his head against the hand over his mouth but he was pinned. Snotlout leaned closer.

"And I am going to make you pay for that…slave…" he menaced.

Then Hiccup's head was slammed viciously against the wall behind him and all went black.